Hollow Fridays
by TheProdigalWordsmith
Summary: College age Alex and Max learn to cope without Justin, years after his death.


**Title:** Hollow Fridays

**Word Count: **2186

**P.O.V: **Alex

**Synopsis**: Alex and Max learn to cope without Justin, years after his death.

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing but the idea behind this. Not even the characters.

_ It happened this Friday._

You jolt up in your seat as the memory flashes in through your mind and suppresses the sharp pain flowing from where your knees have knocked against hard wood. Your roommate tosses you a glance from where he sits and you can _almost but not quite_ see his mouth forming words before you lurch towards the sink to throw up the measly portions of food you had been able to pack away the past few days. The world slows itself down to a crawl as you slump half over the cracked taps, quirking your eyes up to stare at your reflection in the mirror and will yourself with every ounce of determination you possess to not remember; to _ignore_ because you're so sure it will all get worse before it gets better.

Your reflection, for its own part, stares back hollow eyes and quirked eyebrows and you're not sure you've _ever_ looked so infuriatingly mocking at anything, least of which yourself. _Thursday_, the voice in your head repeats deafeningly; you're looking at yourself in the mirror where you're _looking at yourself_ with mocking eyes and quirked eyebrows. The look fills you with such uncharacteristic rage you have to fight not to bring yourself seven years of bad luck as _MirrorYou's_ hollow eyes close, your throat starts to fill with your stomach and the sound from the voice in your head is forced silent by the sound of running water as time speeds back up while you lose even more of yourself down a porcelain drain.

Two more heaves and you think you're done so you force your eyes open and look back up; suddenly you're not seeing you _hollow_ but maybe you _broken_ and you can't understand why everyone who looks at you can't immediately pick up there's something _wrong_ because it's so painfully obvious to you. Hands grab your wrists - gently - and push then under the cold stream to clean your insides from where they've landed on your hands because he's taking care of you because that's what he always does; the tap turns off and there's no running water sound or voice in your head and all you can hear is him.

"You okay?" He whispers, worried, and you flood with _hate_ almost as much as _love _because you know it's good natured but the anal retentive pre-med student persona has never fit him anywhere close to comfortably in either of your minds.

So you stare at yourself in the mirror for maybe a second too long before you steel your eyes, decide _bluster_ is the right decision right now and turn to look at him with a lazy grin.

"I'm fine dude. I must have just been staring at my notes way too long. You know how I feel about..._work_." You lace the last word with as much disgust and distaste as you can but the pity in his eyes lets you know he doesn't believe it for a moment. It doesn't matter though because he _knows_ and even if he has grown up to be taller than you, memories of pranks long past still force his concern in to laughter.

"Seriously, you're the only person I know who will actually become physically ill from learning what kinds of fabric go together" He teases, grinning and dodging the toothbrush you've thrown at him while he reaches for the keys to the car your parents would never let you drive but gave to him when he decided to join you at school.

"Hey," You can feel yourself becoming defensive and you know it's _pathetic _but it's _easy_ "I'll have you know the only reason you've ever even held hands with a girl is because you finally woke up and decided you needed some advice from the only stylish member of our family." The muffled sound of your foot petulantly stomping against carpet accents your declaration softly.

"_Please_," he's still grinning as he tosses the coat that had been lying on the end of the couch at you before turning back to pick up and put on his own, "Harper has way more style than you do. You're like the queen of ugly jewellery or something - I swear, half the mornings I saw you leaving your room I had to bite my tongue for fear of being flashed to some disgusting faux-ruby universe. Not that you _could_ do that anymore anyway since-"

Suddenly, it's not _easy_ anymore and you're watching the world slow down again because he _knows_ what he's said - you can tell from the way his fist start to clench - and you know it's not really his fault even as your emotions drain out of you. You freeze with your coat half on and it suddenly feels heavy, your boots are full of concrete and you're painfully aware of just how completely _uncomfortable_ this feels as you watch your little brother turning to look at you with apologies in his eyes because he'll never be anything _close_ to what your older brother was no matter how long or hard he tries.

_It happened this Friday._

The voice is back again, drowning out Max's desperate plea for you to not shut everything out but it's too late because all you can see is a little boy wearing a button up shirt a thousand sizes too big; the clock sitting on the shelf just behind the couch, blinking the time and date far too brightly for your liking. Thursday, January 5th. The day before it happened. The day before _Friday_.

Next to the clock is a picture of him and you're lost in memories again. Memories of _him_ and _adventures_ but mostly _adventures with him_ because it feels like there wasn't a single important moment in your life that didn't include him and it's painful again to think that maybe the important moments are only so important _because_ they involved him. They _all_ involved him but now he's gone and maybe you feel so hollow because you'll never really have another important memory again.

Max looks like he's rambling in a panic so you force yourself to look at him, trying to forget the idea of far too large clothes and hopefully you'll see him just as he _is_, not _was_ or _is trying to be_ because it's sweet that he's trying so hard to pick up the pieces but the _love-hate_ comes back and it doesn't feel even close to the same with him anyway either.

"-m not good at this and this is harder right now than usual and please don't freeze up all night or go to bed or something because I _need_ you because you're the only one who really gets it and we both know Harper wore ridiculous outfits six days out of the week and I'm so sorry I said that and I'm even more sorry I said_ tha_-"

You cough, rubbing your eyes before you can tear up and cutting off Max before he can spout more words you really couldn't care less about right now. You blink twice for good measure, just in case there are any really stubborn tears there before turning your gaze back to Max and suddenly you're looking at yourself in the mirror again and you fill to the brim with self loathing because his eyes are just as _hollow_ as yours and really it doesn't surprise you but you can't believe you hadn't noticed before.

"It's okay, Maxie. It is. I promise." You try to smile convincingly and he looks at you and you want to _break_ but you can't because he's crossed the room and his arms are around you. He may be taller than you but he still shoves his face against your neck and tries his hardest to breathe steady and not completely lose it because no matter how long he pretends, he's still the _youngest_ and suddenly you're wrapping your arms around him and murmuring comfort because that's what _he_ always did with you when you were going to break.

"I'm so sorry, Alex. I just..." the rest of his words are lost in your half-on coat and his voice breaks and he sniffs more than once before pulling away, muttering something about allergies and you want to_ hate_ him again but you can't because you _know_ and he's just trying to lighten the mood a little. You've lived it before so many times that this time _hate_ is nowhere near _love_ and you surprise them both by letting out the most genuine laugh you have in years and pulling on your coat.

"C'mon dork," You toss another quick glance away from Max and back to _him _before you grab his keys from his stunned hands. You haven't called anyone a dork since _Friday_ but it's okay, maybe, because you think you've decided you understand what it's like to be the oldest now a little better even if you'll never admit it out loud to anyone else. Instead, your smile just gets bigger and you bound towards the door with them before he can react.

"I'm hungry and you're going to buy me a burger because I'm never going to be able to study anymore on an empty stomach," He still hasn't reacted and you've already opened the door so you look back at him and wiggle the keys a little to get his attention, "Also, I've decided since Mom and Dad never let me drive the car when I was at home, I'm going to do it now because I'm older than you and you can't stop me!"

You turn around and run out of the house because you're _sure_ he's going to at least try and object and you want to have the seat adjusted before he can do anything meaningful to try and stop you. You make it half-way to unlocking the driver side before he bounds after you, slamming the door in mock-frustration and screeching out your name in a completely familiar way that makes _love_ and _hate_ pool in you again.

When you look up at him though, standing on the porch smiling the biggest smile you've seen on him in months, _hate_ drips away and all that's left is _love_ and you just smile back before unlocking the door and sticking your tongue out so he wanders over to the passenger side and you both get in and he's sombre almost immediately.

"Alex. I miss Justin too. All the time." he pauses, just a small beat while you turn on the car and click your seat belt closed, "I know it's probably not the same as you but it's still really hard almost all the time."

Your eyes start to water maybe just a little because you haven't heard _his_ name in so long but you force yourself to push past it and you refuse to be _hollow_ or _broken_ because you think there are more important things right now then how you feel about names because it's not really just _you_ anymore, it really never has been, and you get it now even if you didn't before.

"At least we still have each other, right Maxie?" You don't even pretend that there isn't a small plea in that question because he _knows_ and you know he does when he lets out a small breath he probably didn't even realize he was holding.

"Of course, Alex. Always." Then he's smiling again and you're smiling again and it feels so good to not feel lonely anymore so you two do what you two have always done and high-five and it feels like maybe you're not _broken_ anymore because you never really needed another_ Justin_, you just needed someone else who you could miss him with.

Then you grin and nod and he nods as you look back and put your foot down the slightest bit on the gas pedal but _maybe_ you inch forward instead of backwards and end up painfully close to the garage door instead of the end of the driveway. You slam the brake and look at him and he groans and mumbles something about seeing Justin soon and how Dad had been right about never letting you drive the car because there's no way in hell he's going to make it to the restaurant alive.

Two hours ago you would have _broken_, but now you just laugh because it sounds like such a _Max_ thing to say and you're elated he's just doing _Max_ and not _Justin_ so you put the car in reverse - double checking this time - before swatting at him and pulling out in to the street.

You glance over at him and he looks at you and suddenly his eyes are wide and they're full of _memories_ of pranks long past and you wouldn't even dream of trying to hide the half-smirk that finds its way on your face because it's no fun if he doesn't _know_.

The car is far too small for him to escape the unique brand of torture that is you.


End file.
